blink art on pedestrians
by maybe now
Summary: It's how you play the cards you're dealt. If you decide to sit quietly and follow the rules or throw the shitty hand in their faces. bellarke high school AU.


**title:** blink art on pedestrians

**pairing:** eventual bellarke

**an:** again, also posted on ao3 but i figured to hell with it, I'd share. this idea sprung up on me and I couldn't get away from it. I'm currently struggling to plot for this, but it'll get there. I'm really excited by it, I actually wrote this instead of studying for my biochem and neuro midterms because I just couldn't stop.

* * *

><p><em>(well thank god for a shooter, and thank god for a leader<em>

_and think hard for a message_

**-blink art on pedestrians-**

_what are you, a believer?)_

_-_Tranquility by Isaiah Rashad

_one_

_._

Clarke would have liked lifeguarding significantly more if it hadn't branded her with such a hideous tan-line.

She turned and craned her neck, scrutinizing her appearance from over her shoulder in her full length mirror and sighed.

Her skin, naturally pale, shown like a ghost against the nice, large, tan circle stamped on her back.

The bad tan-line made the open back of her sundress look stupid rather than flirty.

Not that she was trying to look flirty.

Clarke shrugged her curly hair back over her shoulders and turned away from the mirror.

Operation 'what to wear on a maybe-date with the cute boy from work' was chalking up as a failure so far.

With a huff, Clarke crossed the room, snatching her phone off the plush comforter rumpled on her bed.

Almost absently, she scrolled to his latest message as she wandered to her closet.

_pick you up at 8 :)_

Clarke wasn't one for boys who used an excessive amount of smileys in texts- it came off as a little too much, in her opinion.

Or at least she used to, as she struggled to tamper down the damn butterflies that all the girls her age liked to squeal about.

She shimmied out of the dress, before absently wandering back into her closet.

Clarke sat down on the bench situated in the middle of the closet, glancing at the options surrounding her. Sometimes she found it all a bit much, her walk-in wardrobe, her huge house, made huger by the absence of her father.

She wished she had a sister, or hell, a friend to come over and help her with this. To talk to, to help pick out outfits…

She'd never had many, friends that is, growing up, mostly because her parents were very protective and she was an introspective kid from the start. And since her dad… Well. She just started getting better this summer.

And she was hanging out with someone tonight.

God, she wished she had a girlfriend to gush to. Finn Collins had been assigned the same shifts at the pool as her from the start, and for that she was definitely grateful.

Finn was the kind of guy that looked like the pretty boy actor that got cast as the bad boy in a bad summer blockbuster. He wore his hair long, in a way that most boys their age were scared to try. Clarke begrudgingly had to admit that it was probably shinier than her own.

They'd struck up an easy friendship as they tried to pass the hours away, and she couldn't deny that she was attracted to him. He had an easy way about him, one that she admired, because she often felt too uptight, too serious.

It was hard to stay that way around him, though. She started to look forward to her lifeguarding shifts not just because it got her out of the house and away from all the memories, but because of his jokes and, okay, so he was a really big flirt and she had started flirting back.

There was only a week before summer ended and the drudgery of junior year of high school began, and she had begun to scale down her expectations from potential summer romance to real life friend.

When he asked her at the end of last shift to come to this party on the other side of town at a guy he called Miller's house, she'd grinned and immediately said yes.

It wasn't until today, really, that she started overanalyzing what this could potentially turn into.

She shook her head as if to physically dispel the thought. She grabbed her favorite pair of dark wash shorts, sliding them on before rapidly thumbing through her tops to find a suitable option.

Her phone vibrated on the bench, and she swore her heart beat extra loud in that following moment. It wasn't 8 yet, of that she was sure, but it was getting close and what if Finn was someone who got to places early? She wasn't even wearing a shirt right now.

God, why was she being such a freak right now. She and Finn were friends. They were just going to hang out in the real world, with his friends, for the first time ever.

With that fixed in her mind, she glanced down at her phone.

_1 new message: Wells_

Funny how a reaction could change tune so quickly. A tightness settling and sinking in her chest, she angrily punched the button to delete the message.

Throwing her phone back onto the seat, she turned back to her clothes, hand snaking out and grabbing the royal blue top with the skinny straps that somehow made her eyes look even bluer.

The shirt cut low in the front, but who was counting.

She shoved her phone in her back pocket, exiting her closet to inspect her makeup one last time. She looked good, she decided.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and this time it said the right name, Finn, and he was outside waiting for her now. Shooting a quick message back, she grabbed her purse and put her phone inside.

While her room was full of color and various drawings and paintings she'd either done herself or collected, the hall and staircase that opened to the main foyer was done in soft neutrals that belied her mother's tastes, more than the modern lines her father had preferred.

Every step she took down the stairs felt like they echoed eternally through the empty house. Her mom had been pulling more and more hours in the ER, to the point where sometimes Clarke wasn't even sure she ever came home.

Part of her was mad at her for that.

The other part just made her glad that she didn't have to actually face her mom and be forced to talk, or deal with anything.

She exited the front door, locking it quickly before turning to search for Finn.

He waved at her from his perch on top a motorcycle.

The image was so fitting she could only stand there on her driveway, shaking her head.

Of _course_ he drove a motorcycle.

"What, you never seen a motorcycle before, Princess?" he grinned cheekily.

She rolled her eyes at the nickname. He'd used it a few times before during work, and it definitely wasn't one of her favorites.

He knew that, but liked to use it anyways.

"I know what a motorcycle is, Finn."

His easy smile grew bigger. "Well I hope you aren't scared, because I brought you an extra helmet!" he said, shaking aforementioned protective article in his free hand.

"I am not scared," she huffed, making sure to put extra swing in her hips as she sauntered over to the bike.

_Fake it til you make it, Griffin, _ignoring her adrenaline response.

She smirked when she caught Finn looking.

She was glad for her decision to switch into shorts as she swung a leg over the machine. She was a little bit too nervous to deal with a potentially awkward flashing occurrence.

Putting on the helmet, she wrapped her arms around Finn's waist.

She wasn't scared.

"Let's go."

The next boy he had to drag Octavia away from was going to be on the receiving end of his fist.

"Bellamy, what the fuck, we were just talking," huffed the aforementioned pain in the ass that was his little sister.

Why he was cursed to be responsible for a silly sixteen year old who was blessed in the genetics department, he didn't know.

"Yeah? Well he's a dick so he definitely didn't think you were '_just talking_'," he mimicked as he physically pulled her down the sidewalk, taking care not to bruise her skinny arm.

Octavia scoffed, and he caught her eyes roll in exasperation during his quick glance back.

"Atom is one of _your _friends."

Bellamy smirked.

"Yeah, which is exactly why I know."

"Oh, _whatever_, Bell," she spat, yanking her arm away from him.

"Besides," she said primly as she drew up beside him, "there was nothing there that I couldn't handle."

"Ugh, gross Octavia." He pulled a face, casting her a disparaging glance. "There will be no 'handling' of any kind," he finished sternly. They made the familiar turn onto their street, the sounds of squealing little kids enjoying the last days of summer echoing from between the tired apartment complexes. The sun was setting. Their mothers would come out soon, tired from their long days at work, ushering them inside and chastising them to not get so dirty.

He bit back a sigh at the nostalgia, wishing that his life was still as uncomplicated and ignorant as a kid's.

Instead of making the right to their complex, they continued down a few more blocks before hanging a left on Orchard St, where Miller lived.

He wished he could just drop Octavia off at home, a part of him still feeling like she was too young to be out drinking even though he had started when he was two years younger than she was now.

Besides, he'd figured it would be easier to look after her if she didn't feel like she had to sneak out all the time. That would probably give him a heart attack and early grey hairs.

Most of the neighborhood kids were already there, and Bellamy could hear the bass from whatever underground rap shit Miller was obsessed with from where they were on the sidewalk.

Miller's house was small, but it was a house and not an apartment so that meant he had a yard they could use to get drunk with limited interruption. The houses here were kind of close together, but old Mrs. Jenkins who lived to the right was basically deaf and Richard was too tired from work to give a shit, really. Besides, Miller mowed his lawn and did some yard work for him free of charge in exchange for not calling the cops.

Said friend was lounging right inside the fence, staring at the crowd as he smoked joint.

"Hey Bellamy," he said as he and Octavia entered the gate.

"Hey, man," he responded with half a grin, clasping Miller's proffered hand, pounding his free hand on Miller's back as he did the same.

He heard Octavia sigh, and he could tell she was rolling her eyes.

"Boys and their stupid greetings," she muttered, and Miller only smiled as Bellamy reached out to muss her hair.

"Ugh!" she exclaimed, swatting away his hand before running her hands down her hair frantically, trying to smooth the strands.

"Jerk," she grumbled, before disappearing into the crowd.

"Pretty good turnout," Miller noted, shrugging a shoulder at the mingling teens behind them.

Bellamy snorted. "Of course," he stated, "It's one of the last weekend before school starts again, why wouldn't anyone want to get fucking wasted."

The rumble of a motorcycle distracted them, and they watched as Collins parked close to the curb. Finn didn't live far, which meant whoever was seated behind him didn't live close.

Kids from the other side of town weren't _not_ allowed at their parties, but that still didn't mean many of them came.

The pair tucked their helmets in between the wheels and the curb.

Sure, motorcycles were cool and everything, but they were inefficient as fuck as well as dangerous. Maybe if he didn't have any fucking responsibilities he would lark around on a motorcycle.

Spacewalker and a girl who was not Raven walked up the driveway to the gate, engrossed in some conversation before noticing him where he lingered, right inside.

"Huh. Fancy that. Spacewalker showing up with a girl who is so obviously not from here," he drawled, giving the girl (_Clarke Griffin_, everyone knew who she was, even before the thing with her dad) a quick once-over, in equal parts to check her out and make her feel uncomfortable.

Standing quietly at his side, Miller crossed his arms, quietly sizing up Collins. There wasn't bad blood there, per say, but they'd never been on the best terms. Bellamy thought it had something to do with Reyes, but while if he was forced to pick, he'd consider Miller his best friend, they didn't have fucking tea parties and discuss their feelings.

He shot a pointed glance at Finn, who had noticeably bristled upon being addressed, arm slipping from where it had been wrapped around the blonde's shoulders.

Interesting.

"What's your name, Princess, and how did you end up here with him?"

At the nickname, her blue eyes sharpen to a glare.

"My name is _Clarke_, and we work together." She glanced at Collins, who was nodding at her side. "We're… friends," she seemed to decide, the small pause not unnoticed, and Bellamy had to wonder whether she knew what she was doing there with Finn or not.

"Whatever you say, _Princess_," he sneered, just because he knew it would rile her up and it did, she almost took a step towards him before apparently thinking better of it.

She settled for rolling her eyes and he sent a smirk in response. Pretty, but not as docile as she appeared.

He shot another look at Finn, who looked like he was about to break out in a sweat. Probably worried he was going to say something, but Bellamy would rather see how this played out. Interfering unnecessarily was never quiet his style, anyways.

"C'mon Clarke, let's go get something to drink," Finn spat, placing a guiding hand on Clarke's back as they stepped past him.

He knew he shouldn't care. And it wasn't even that he did, care, that is, that Collins was probably cheating on his girlfriend with a feisty blonde from the nice side of town.

Bellamy shook his head, faintly bemused through the thrum of alcohol coursing through his blood. Did Spacewalker even remember who his girlfriend was? She might be smart as hell and at some nerd camp in Boston, but Reyes was the furthest thing from a pushover he'd ever seen.

What an idiot. Fucking Spacewalker. Didn't know how to quit when he's ahead.

"Who was that guy?" she asked, her blood still pumping like she was entering a fight even as they walked away from the scene.

Finn scoffed. "That asshole was Bellamy." She glanced back to see the boy in question leaning casually against the railing, two brunettes trying to capture his attention. He noticed her looking and shot over a smirk, but Finn and his hand at her back had propelled her around a corner before she could respond.

"Well he certainly seems like a character."

"Yeah… He kind of thinks he runs things over here. "

She nodded, accepting the brief description as she remembered the other boy's confident posturing and the way eyes all across the yard seemed drawn to him, despite his aloof position at the gate.

Finn looked like he was remembering too, but with slightly more irritation than her curiosity.

"So," she said with a grin, "'Spacewalker,' huh?"

Finn groaned, throwing his head back. He gave her shoulder a friendly push as she laughed at his reaction.

"God, don't even get me started," he said as they walked over to the cooler with the beer.

Clarke smirked as she submerged her hand in the freezing water, ice melting from the summer heat.

"No, after that reaction I'm curious," she teased, pulling out two cans.

Finn gave a long-suffering sigh, taking the beer she offered with a mumbled _thanks._

"It's just a dumb childhood nickname that stuck," he shrugged after taking a swig.

"What, you wanted to be an astronaut or something?" she teased, gently pushing his shoulder and looking up at him.

She could see the heat rise in his cheeks and couldn't hold back a laugh.

"Oh you _did_! Finn, don't be embarrassed, that's cute."

"Yeah, cute until you're 17 years old and your whole neighborhood still calls you 'Spacewalker,'" he complained.

"Ah, that's okay. So, what, you looking to join NASA after college?"

Finn snorted. "No, I'm not smart enough for all '_that_'," he gestured, as if the sweep of his hand could encompass all the sciences and maths put together.

Clarke smiled. "I'm sure you could do it if you wanted to."

Finn shrugged, not phased. "Honest, it's not something I'm really interested in, anyways. It was never really just _my_ dream, anyways."

Clarke stared as Finn seemed to lose his thought, looking out over the kids gathered around the fire, drinking and laughing loudly. She cocked her head contemplatively, something off about his emphasis of 'my', and right before she decided to ask he shrugged again.

"Nothing like you though, Dr. Griffin," he smiled playfully, clinking his beer against hers.

She faked a shudder. "Ugh, Dr. Griffin just makes me sound like my mom."

Finn laughed. "C'mon, that can't be such a bad thing."

Clarke just smiled. "Yeah, I suppose there are worse things."

They lapses into short silence, pausing to drink more.

"Well," Finn stated, bending down to grab two more beers, "How about we go down there and see how good you are at beer pong."

She rolled her eyes. Just because she was from the other part of town and hung out with a different circle doesn't mean that she's never been to a party before.

"I swear it's like you think I'm some goody-two-shoes, Finn," she remarked, swiping a beer out of his hands.

He barked out a laugh, trailing after her as she spun around to head over to the table where the most shouting originated from.

"And," she threw over her shoulder, eyes flashing mischeviously, "I'll have you know that I _kick ass_ at this game."

"Oh really," Finn said as he caught up to her.

"Mhmm," she confirmed as they reached the table.

The present game was almost finished, the skinny duo of boys she recognized from some of her science classes last year in the lead with two cups left.

She turned, and leaned up so she could whisper in his ear.

"And I _never_ lose."

Finn's eyes flashed with that unnamable something as she her heels hit the ground once more.

Feeling bold and encouraged by Finn's sudden hand on her waist, she faced back towards the table as the kid, Jasper, she thought, hit the last cup.

"OH, it's OVER!" he whooped, turning to his friend, hand out for a high-five. She blinked in a moment of confusion as instead of slapping each other's hands, they used their other hand to clap their own.

She shrugged.

"Oh fuck off, Jasper," said the boy on the other side of the table as he set down the now empty cup.

The other kids laughed.

"Hey," Finn called out over her shoulder, "Me and Clarke got the next game."

Some of the kids paused in their chatter, staring at her with vague interest as they walked to the other side of the table.

"Bring it on, Spacewalker."

.

Finn was laughing, 7 games and a questionable amount of beer later, listing a bit into her side. "You weren't kidding, Clarke, we just ran the table!"

She giggled, knowing she was drunk from that alone.

"I don't kid, mister," she proclaimed, tugging on his t-shirt to emphasize.

He grinned in response.

"Alright, alright, it's almost 2:30 and we have shift tomorrow at noon."

Clarke groaned. "If I'm hungover tomorrow…"

Finn laughed. "Then I'll suffer right along with you."

They weaved through the throng of people, making their way to the gate out of the yard.

"Wait, dude, are you okay to drive?"

The boy named Miller, he was the host of this party, she could remember, stopped Finn with a hand on his shoulder.

Clarke realized she hadn't even thought of that, about them both having drank throughout the whole evening and that the way they came was via motorcycle. Who's proclivity for accidents was already high—Clarke had shadowed one of her mother in the ER before.

Clarke realized that Finn's motorcycle was the only vehicle parked by the house—the rest of the people there either lived somewhere really close by in the neighborhood or were probably going to take advantage of Miller's empty house and stay over. She really might have been the only person here who lived north of Washington St.

"Yeah man, don't worry about it, I'm good," Finn brushed him off good-naturedly, and Miller just looked down really quick before glancing back at someone, was that Bellamy from before, with his scrutinizing gaze falling on her and Finn, and nodding. Bellamy's gaze had locked on her, expression masked and non-telling, and she suddenly felt self-conscious, wondering what the hell was so interesting.

"Alright man, see you around," Miller was saying, and once again Finn was propelling her forward, breaking her eye contact with Bellamy.

Shaking herself, she eased into Finn's side, feeling warm from the summer night and the buzz from the beer and the arm around her waist.

Maybe she should be more concerned, she thought as she tugged on the helmet Finn offered to her. Maybe she should come up with a more logical solution.

She slid onto the motorcycle behind Finn for the second time that evening, wrapping her arms snuggly around his middle.

The Clarke of last year would be resolutely standing on that curb, calling Wells, or her dad, to come pick her up. The thought hurt more than she expected.

Although the Clarke of last year probably wouldn't be here at all.

"Ready?" Finn asked over his shoulder, eyes and mouth smiling down at her.

She let out a breath, relaxing into his back.

"Let's go," she said, and they were off.

.

The motorcycle slowed to a stop in front of her house, and distantly, through the haze and fuzziness of the alcohol she thanked God that they made it home without crashing.

She wondered if her mother was still up, distantly, hoping she was asleep so she didn't have to explain or try to hide her evident intoxication.

Clarke blinked, and they were both standing on the curb, she didn't remember getting off the motorcycle or taking off her helmet—maybe Finn took it off, he was holding it in his hand now—but she hoped tomorrow she would remember how it felt when Finn's hand smoothed down her hair, tucking a few errant strands behind her ear.

She shivered.

"Thanks for inviting me tonight," she said to break the silence.

"I'm glad you could come," he smiled down at her, and faces like that with those kind of soft smiles should be illegal, she thought.

His had was still caught in her hair, and for a second her heart sped, wondering if he was going to kiss her.

Instead his hand slipped down from her face, and he stepped back with a rueful smile.

"See you tomorrow at work, Clarke," and he was gone and she was drunk, buzzing with lingering anticipation, staring at the summer stars.

The first thing Bellamy did when he woke up (after letting the girl from last night out his window onto the fire escape and shower the encounter off his body) was check and see if Octavia was in her room.

The room was locked when he got there. She'd been doing that more this summer, locking her door, because of '_wanting her privacy'_ or whatever. He was just trying to make sure that she made it home safe and was in there, _alone_, but, hey. Sue him for trying to look out for her.

Octavia told him he was a hypocrite, but when it came to her that was something he really didn't care about. There was a reason he was grateful that he had ended up in the only bedroom accessible to fire esape.

He rapped his knuckles on the door, fingers landing next to peeling white paint.

The sound echoed loudly in the quiet house.

"O," he called through the door, knocking once again.

"O, you in there?"

He heard some muffled swearing and complaints through the door.

He laughed as a muffled thump caused the door to shake. Bellamy shook his head, wondering what she had decided to throw.

His smile died when he got to the kitchen.

His mother was sitting at the table, hair piled on top of her head, tired eyes scanning the newspaper as she sipped at some coffee.

Aurora was a beautiful woman, and Bellamy could see her likeness to Octavia, see through his mom how O might age. It had always been clear that Octavia took after her more than he did—his skin was a tone too dark, eyes and nose fitting a different mold.

Aurora looked up at him, a small, strained smile on her face.

"Good morning, Bellamy."

He hummed a half-hearted response as he grabbed the nearest mug on the drying rack, pouring in the last of the coffee from the pot.

"So," she said, voice a bit stilted, "who was the girl from last night?"

Bellamy sighed. There was a time when things with him and his mom were not this strained, a time where he thought she hung the stars and welcomed the sun, but he'd grown up and opened his eyes and things weren't like that, anymore. Octavia didn't get it, always pestered him about it, '_why are you so mean to Mom'_ '_She just wants to talk to you Bell, what the hell is your problem'_, but he preferred it that way. It was better this way.

"I wore a condom," he responded dryly.

He grabbed the dog-eared copy of _Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee_ from the kitchen table and stalked out of the house, not waiting for a response.

The day was annoyingly bright, but he hadn't had enough last night to be hungover. His feet pounded a steady cadence down the stairs.

The little kids were already out playing, but even the youngest knew not to infringe on his reading spot under the big tree behind the complex.

He settled down with a sigh, flipping through the pages to find his spot.

Bellamy wasn't really sure when he started being interested in history. It was kind of a quiet thing, something about him that he liked to keep to himself, this one hobby that was just him and the books and the stories of the past.

School textbooks were stupid about history, he thought as he turned another page. A bunch of old white guys writing about how the sun shined out of these dead white guys' asses with no regard or respect for the rest of the fucking world aside from a few anecdotes about how European diseases ravaged the American population and a very systematic chapter on slavery.

Footsteps scuffling to a stop at his feet, and he hoped they would turn around or just keep going, because really? Really? He read maybe three pages. He'd been pulling so many extra hours this summer that he hardly got any time to read, and when he does—

"Hey."

Of course it's fucking Spacewalker, not because this is a frequent occurrence or anything—they mainly try to interact as little as possible, because people like them don't mix very nicely—but because Finn would be the guy to ruin the little peace he did get in his life.

Bellamy let out a loud sigh, resting his open book on his chest.

"Well, what is it Spacewalker?"

Finn looked uncomfortable, shifting a bit on his feet before declaring, "Look, I forgot Raven was coming home today and picked up an extra shift at the pool this afternoon. Can you go pick her up?"

He snorted. He 'forgot'. Right.

"Huh. The pool. Is that where you met that blonde you brought to the party last night?"

Finn huffed, rolling his eyes.

"Bellamy, can you pick her up or not."

"Well, I mean I had other plans for this morning that did not include driving a half hour to the airport to pick up _your_ girlfriend."

He enjoyed watching Finn squirm, knowing how much it must be killing him to beg him for a favor. He imagined he'd feel the same way if the situation was reversed, but then, he would never put himself in this situation.

"Look, Raven's messaged me like two times ever since she got to MIT, and that was at the beginning of this summer. So I don't know if we're even still together or not."

Bellamy barked out an incredulous laugh. "You expect a girl like Reyes to text you 24/7? Do you even _know_ who you're dating?"

"Stop pretending like you know anything about Raven or our relationship. Jesus you're such a fucking dick."

"No, no, I'm just trying to get this straight," he smirked, enjoying the spectacle. "So you line up a new girl before she even gets home.

"Huh," he paused deliberately, taking stock of Finn's fuming expression. Steam wasn't blowing out of his ears, but not all of life could look like early morning cartoons. "Never thought you had it in you, thought you were much too 'holier-than-thou' for that kind of move."

"It's not even like that, you asshole. Look. I will pay for your next tank of gas. Just please pick her up."

"Wow, this girl must really be worth the trouble, Spacewalker."

"Shut up Bellamy you don't even know what you're talking about."

"Does Princess even know you have a girlfriend?"

"Will you do it or not," Collins said flatly, fists clenched at his side.

Bellamy raised an eyebrow, mouth stuck in a permanent smirk. "Okay, okay… take it easy. But you're paying for my next two tanks, Collins, and don't think I won't cash in."

"Whatever… just tell Raven that my mom wouldn't let me go because I had to fix something around the house."

Bellamy scoffed as Finn continued to stare at him imploringly.

"Right… sure thing, Finn. Sure thing."

.

Which was why he was now taking the exit to arrive at the airport three hours later. Part of him was happy for the excuse to take a drive—especially when the gas wasn't on his own money—and get out of the house. Weekends meant his mom was home, like today… or she wasn't home, which made things better but also that much worse.

He'd lived most his life oblivious, and as he entered double digit years, sometimes forcing his ignorance. Being a single parent is difficult, especially when you have no support system, no grandparents to pitch in, no fucking child support—for either of them, from either of them.

Their dads, he meant, whoever the fuck they might be. That was one of the things he tried to stop himself from thinking about for a long time until it became much too probable to deny. He prayed to fucking God that Octavia hadn't gone down that rabbit hole. He acted like too much of an overbearing, overprotective older brother for her to ever think they may not even be fully related.

His lungs ached for a cigarette. He swore to Octavia he'd slow down (for probably the twentieth time), but those promises were the few he ever broke. His fingers twitched towards the pack in his pocket.

The traffic wasn't heavy in Terminal 1 of the arrivals, but that was probably because, even though the airport boasted to be an international one, North Carolina wasn't that hot of a destination, in his opinion.

Bellamy itched to get out of this town, out of this state, far far away somewhere much different, like Chicago, but that was a dream that seemed unattainable. He'd graduate high school at the end of this year and eventually turn into the bitter, toothless old men that sat on their porches in the morning sun, tired from hating the world.

He was jealous of Raven, jealous that she was smart enough to get funding that allowed her to go to fucking Boston for engineering camp and get her scholarships for whatever fucking college she wanted, wherever.

There was nothing holding her back, no family aside from a deadbeat drunk of a mom, and he hated her for that. Probably why he could never seem to be nice to her.

And she stood, impatiently, curbside, waiting for her shitty boyfriend.

Reyes was one of those girls that carried that stance of "talk to me and I'll bite you" and was gorgeous enough that a dumber guy still might try. Part of that manifested as a product of their environment and most of it was just Raven. Smart as fuck, hot, and better at fixing cars than him. Which she would never let him forget and he would never admit every time they had a shift together at the mechanic's shop.

She definitely carried that aura now, standing with arms crossed, hip cocked, in jeans and a grey tank lettered with a fading MIT in burgundy. She was scanning the cars inching through the lanes, searching in vain for Collins' car. She still managed to look cool and untouchable despite the humid Carolina heat.

He pulled into an open spot by the curve, a little ways ahead of her. He rolled down the window and beckoned back at her.

Once he caught her attention, he saw her posture deflate just for a second before her tough attitude snapped back into place.

Hefting her large duffle roughly over her shoulder, she stalked over to the car.

She wrenched the door open with a contained hostility that only Reyes could manage and all but catapulted her bag in the back seat of his shitty car.

Glaring, she opened the passenger door and slid in.

"Greetings, sunshine," he said with a smirk as he started the engine.

He heard her scoff as he pulled out of the terminal. "Fuck you, Bellamy. Why the fuck are you the one picking me up at the airport? Literally the last fucking person I want to see right now…"

He pursed his lips. "Believe me, Reyes, it's not like I _volunteered._ This is not how I like to spend my Saturdays. Finn asked me to."

Her ponytail whipped over her shoulder as she turned in her seat abruptly.

"And why would Finn ask you and not be here himself?"

He shrugged. Although he would never admit it out loud, he liked Raven. Girl didn't take shit from anyone… anyone except for Finn, he supposed. Things like love and history could cloud a person's judgment, he knew firsthand.

So. He wasn't going to start covering for fucking Spacewalker when he had a pretty good idea of what was happening.

"Something came up."

"_Something_ came _up_," she repeated slowly, as if tasting the words and deciding she didn't like them.

"I mean, he's only known that I was coming home on this flight since I got into the fucking program this spring, but…"

Bellamy sighed. Just because he kind of had this respect for Raven didn't mean he wanted to become one of her girlfriends (on second thought, did she actually have any?) and talk about her relationship.

"Whatever," he interjected as he merged onto the interstate.

She just rolled her eyes and sat back in her seat, facing the window.

"Yeah, whatever."


End file.
